


Garnet

by Anastasia_G



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:31:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anastasia_G/pseuds/Anastasia_G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the city of New Orleans, the price of blood, magic and desire is always high, and never predictable, but sometimes, just sometimes, your only hope of salvation. AU (mostly). Klaus/Bonnie with some Rebekah/Marcel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a blend of AU and canon. Klaus and Rebekah left Mystic Falls after the Unlinking in 3x21 and the rest of the Originals scattered. Klaroline was never a thing (sorry, I just hate what that ship put Caroline, Klaus and Tyler thru). Bonnie however remained in Mystic Falls and survived the Silas stuff, but not without putting herself in a year-long coma doing the spell that brought Jeremy back to life.
> 
> Thank you to my betas Shakarean and Alia, my TVD consultant and artist Nisha, my fellow Klonnie writer and anti- Julie-Pleccer Jazzywazzy, my queen of titles Annie, and finally everyone in the Bonnie Bennett fandom who forges ahead with creativity and passion despite ridiculous odds. <3

 

_"Darkling, I listen; and, for many a time_

_I have been half in love with easeful Death_

_Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme._

_To take into the air my quiet breath"_

                            - **_An Ode to a Nightingale_** , John Keats

 

* * *

 

“Like I told Jacques, two more weeks.” Bonnie kept her voice low, mindful of the paper thin walls of the break room. She only had a few more minutes before one of the other girls came in for their break.

 

The vampire on the other end of the line also lowered his voice, though his purpose was menace rather than discretion, “Jakey isn’t doing business anymore. I am.”

 

A slow unease crept over her. “What happened to Jacques?”

 

“Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head darlin’. Just get me two pints by Friday.”

 

“That’s not gonna happen. I told you I need-,”

 

“Make it happen. You don’t want me to become persuasive.”

 

Bonnie pressed END as soon as the door swung open. Loretta, a tall busty red-head with a bad smoking habit, gave her a suspicious once over. “Break’s over. Get your ass out there.”

 

“Be right there,” Bonnie checked her reflection in the mirror, willing the angry lines on her temple to subside and smoothing down her hair. Since she’d left Mystic Falls three months ago she’d been wrapping her hair herself so it framed her face in soft waves. The style helped downplay the gauntness of her features from regular blood-loss, and disguised the flashes of emotion in her vivid green eyes and mutinous lips.

 

She checked her phone one last time. Two missed calls from Jeremy. She pushed it to the back of her mind, though not without a stab of guilt.

 

Loretta watched her pop two iron pills in her mouth with a curious look on her face. “You anemic or something?”

 

“Yea. Something like that.”

 

She brushed past Loretta and returned to the floor. The small dingy bar was full of its usual Friday night crowd. A local classic-rock act was stomping all over the stage and the black floors were already slick with spilled drinks no one had time to clean up. She walked behind the bar and started cleaning off the taps, moving dirty glasses into the sink. A few drunken patrons leered openly at her but after two months of working at the Red Raven she was no longer shocked. There was a reason the owner, Eric, made his waitresses wear tight black shorts and clingy white-t-shirts that left nothing to the imagination.

 

The back of her neck tingled, and her magic hummed a quiet warning in her ears. She was being watched. Unconsciously, her fingers brushed the necklace of silver-encased vervain at her throat. She turned, wiping off the counter and casting furtive glances around the room. But apart from the usual leers and stares, there was nothing suspicious.

 

And yet, she felt it again. That nagging prickle along the base of her scalp.

 

Someone was watching her with purpose, and she intended to find out who.

 

****

 

Klaus remembered the taste of her blood.

 

It was brief, a tantalizing drop trickled off her upper lip after she’d performed the Unlinking spell for him some three years ago.

 

Still, the taste of a witch like Bonnie Bennett was not easily forgotten.

 

He watched her wiping glasses and filling drinks behind the bar, swimming in a veritable soup of ogling customers.

 

_Oh how the mighty have fallen._

 

He knew she could sense him, but he wasn’t ready to reveal himself yet. Closing his eyes, he conjured the memory of her blood, sweet as a lemondrop on his tongue.

 

Klaus returned to watching her handle her duties with a mechanical ease while her mind was clearly elsewhere. The miniscule shorts sat well on her rounded rump, and the white -top outlined her breasts and tapered waist.  He couldn’t blame the drunken louts devouring her with their eyes. But unlike the older, more experienced servers, there was stiffness in her spine, and her slim shoulders were slightly hunched like a turtle poised to retreat into a shell.

 

“I’m bored,” Rebekah sighed, “And it smells like piss. Why are we here again?”

 

His fingers toyed with the empty liquor glass,  “Tell me Bekah, what do you remember about our time in Paris?

 

She rolled her eyes, “Well before you killed my lover, we lived like kings, did whatever we wanted,” then something almost wistful came into her voice, “It felt like the world was ours for the taking.”

 

“And how would you like to live that way again?” he directed her eyes over to Bonnie Bennett, who was balancing a heavy tray of drinks over to a group of young men in sports jerseys. Klaus noted her tenseness, masked in a tight, compact kind of grace. She looked as out of place as an edelweiss flower in a swamp.

 

The scroll was clear about the terms of the Sacrifice. And the moment he saw those words - _pure, fire, heart_  -  he thought instantly of a fiery field, a young witch slender as a willow tree in a storm, that drop of sharp-sweetness dissolving in his mouth.

 

“And the Bennett witch is our ticket to former glory?” Rebekah sounded skeptical, but he ignored that. The years since they’d left Mystic Falls had been largely fruitless. Until now.

 

“Glory, power, unchecked indulgence in whatever we desire. Bonnie Bennett is the world, and all we have to do,” Klaus kept his eyes on Bonnie’s petite form, “is take her.”

 

* * *

 

 

One of the men Bonnie was serving, a long-faced fellow in a green plaid button-down, made a great show of ogling and trying to grab a handful of her ass. She wove between his grasping hands, tight smile in place while setting beer mugs down twice the size of her forearm. When she jerked her hips to avoid plaid-shirt’s hand, some of the drinks sloshed onto her shirt.

 

“Fuck,” Bonnie tried to take a step, still balancing the tray. Klaus saw the next few seconds before they happened, and seized the opportunity.

 

As Bonnie lost her footing, free-hand shooting out, green-shirt grabbed her hip, trying to pull her into his lap. Klaus intervened, grasped her splayed fingers and tugged. She tumbled against his chest, steadied by his other arm that swiftly circled her waist.

 

Bonnie had the strange sensation of being pulled against a brick-wall smelling of expensive aftershave. A strong arm encircled her. She glanced up at when he spoke, blinking in disbelief.

 

“Hello, love.”

 

Slim brows crashed into a frown as she realized who he was and she stumbled out of his grip.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?’

 

Green-shirt tried to stand, “Hey asshole she was still serving my drink-,” caught off guard when Klaus pressed a hand to his chest.

 

Klaus smiled into the man’s eyes until the pupils dilated

 

The man slouched off to the confused protests of his friends.

 

Bonnie whirled on him, “What did you do to him?”

 

“I wouldn’t let it bother you, love.”

 

Klaus smirked and pocketed his hands, recalling the last time he’d  said those words to her. Her frown looked exactly the same. He could almost hear her next words, instead Bonnie doubled back towards the bar with him on her heels. Picking up the bar-phone, she asked the bouncer to check on green-shirt dude. Deep inside though she was relieved; that guy showed up every week and never left without copping an unwanted feel. She hung up and turned around to face Klaus.

 

“I see you finally quit that insipid little town, Miss.Bennett.”

 

Crossing her arms, she sized up the Original in front of her. Wearing a loose grey shirt and slim jeans, with one of his strange beaded necklaces exposed by the v-neck, he radiated a debonair carelessness that, she knew from experience, was only a facade for the ruthless power underneath . The scent of his aftershave still lingered about in her nostrils from when she’d been pressed against his chest.

 

“What do you want, Klaus?” She tried her best to sound cool and intimidating, though she was certain her heartbeat gave her away. If he decided to pull something in this bar she would literally be powerless to stop him.

 

Full lips twitched in a smile, “You’re in a bar, I’m a devastatingly handsome bloke, if you do the math-”

 

She narrowed her eyes, “I’m working, I don’t have time for your games.”

 

To her annoyance, the blond vampire eased himself onto a barstool and slid a twenty dollar bill across the table, “One whiskey sour please. Keep the change”

 

She mixed the drink and placed it in front of him, along with exact change.“Anything else?”

 

“Yes. It seems I’m in need of some witchy help and you were at the top of my list.”

 

“You’re kidding. Right?” she gave a short, sharp laugh.

 

He picked up the glass, ignoring the money and eyeing her over the rim.

 

“I will of course also provide your meals, your clothing, your transport for however long it takes while we work together,” Klaus went on, smooth as if they were negotiating a corporate salary package.

 

“So I can be your hired witch?” she snorted, “No thanks. Now leave me alone.”

 

A flash of anger ruffled his boyish features.

  
  


Rounding the bar, she tried to brush past him but his hand reached out, long fingers easily encircling her slender arm. The thinness gave him pause; he’d always noticed her being a wispy little thing but now her bones felt fragile as matchsticks in his hand.

 

“Better the devil you know,” he whispered, close enough his breath tickled her ear, “and you know I keep my promises to you.”

 

While she glanced around to make sure her supervisor wasn’t watching, Klaus continued in a low voice, “I know about your situation, love. I know you got in over your pretty head trying to save the Gilbert boy,” his warm, rough hand slid down her arm, “I know it put you in a coma for almost a year. I know about Silas murdering your father. And I know you’re here because you don’t have a cent to your name.”

 

Bonnie forced herself to stay composed, to not let his deep modulant voice pull her strings. This was a game to him, her deepest sorrows and fears were pawns for his strategy. He’d been the same in Mystic Falls, trying to worm his way into her head so he could use her without Compulsion.

 

“Help me, and I’ll ensure you never have to work again. You can buy Mystic Falls for a playground if you wish,” he paused, breathing the scent of shampoo and coconut-oil in her hair, “And get your father a decent headstone.”

 

Bonnie jerked her arm away, and Klaus had flash of deja vu. They were in the parlor of his mansion at Mystic Falls, and young Bonnie Bennett with her loose, girlish hair and doe-eyes looked him in the face and said simply “You bother me.” Then as now, he needed to force her righteous little hand. She faced him calmly though he he could see the glint of unshed tears in her eyes.

 

“No,” she said, “I’m done with magic and vampires. Just, please, leave me alone.” It was not entirely a lie. Her magic was drastically weakened after the coma. She could barely manage the simplest spells. But witch’s blood was apparently a hot commodity in New Orleans so she’d been selling hers for some much-needed extra-cash.

 

Klaus angled his head, trying to put his finger on what was different about her. He remembered the first time he saw her, the sunlight bouncing off her fresh, young radiance. Now she was all haunted eyes and a demeanor brittle as glass. The change irritated him, stirred an anger that had no target.

 

Still, she was the key to his plan. And he held all the cards.

 

Hopping off the stool, he flashed a brilliant smile, “Well it was lovely catching up. My offer remains open,” he picked up her hand and gave it a casual kiss, “keep the change, pet.”

  
  


*****

The prickly feeling on her neck stopped, which meant Klaus had probably left.

 

For the rest of the night, Bonnie went through her duties in a daze. Klaus was here, in New Orleans of all places! And he needed her help, would even pay her exorbitantly for it. She thought of her hard-won tips and meagre paychecks, the precious bags of her blood sold to vampires; three months of both and she was still up to her ears in debt. Working for Klaus could take care of everything in a single cheque.

 

It wasn’t fair.

 

Klaus was dangerous, far more powerful than he should be, and unpredictable.

 

And yet....She remembered being led out of his manor after the Unlinking spell, his hand on the small of her back guiding her away from Damon’s tortured cries. His words of goodbye before seeing her out the door. A kiss to her prone hand, those cool blue eyes glinting at her. “Take care, little dove.”

 

She’d been too flustered and overwhelmed to respond. It was only later, exhausted and numb, that anger at muttered questions in her head. How dare he? How dare he come into her life, take what he needed, and just leave? She couldn’t decide what she was angrier about: that Klaus had got what he wanted and skipped town with no consequences, or that she was left behind to an increasingly claustrophobic life.

 

She wondered what it was about him that seduced witches like Greta into complete submission. How fast did it descend from innocent hand-kissing and gallant offers to utter surrender? Remembering his smooth, sonorous voice, his breath ghosting her ear, she shivered. There’d always been something different about the way Klaus looked at her. Other vampires regarded her with hate, grudging respect or suspicion; Klaus looked at her like he was privy to all her secrets, even the ones she didn’t suspect about herself yet.

 

Bonnie glanced at the clock. Her shift was done. Since she wasn’t closing, she gathered her purse and backpack and, after a brief deliberation, pocketed the hefty tip Klaus had left her.

 

* * *

 

Joy Hopkinson was nervous as she followed her girlfriend, Amber, down the muddy slope to the riverbank. The trees were all sweaty with recent rain, the river flowing full and strong.

 

“Just a little further,” Amber shouted, swatting mosquitoes off her face.

 

“Why can’t we drink in the car?” she shot back.

 

“Stop being such a wuss, we’re vampires. Besides, the river’s beautiful at night.”

 

“Marcel said no one’s supposed to leave Quarter until they find Jacques,” Joy pointed out, stepping carefully around the muddy tangled undergrowth.

 

Amber laughed, “Marcel’s just being Marcel. All this talk about a war coming - ,”

 

They’d reached the river bank. Moonlight swirled in the eddies of water, glistened silver on the bare flesh of river stones.

 

Joy took her by the hand, squeezed it tight, “What if Marcel is right? What if whoever kidnapped Jacques and killed those girls really is gonna declare war on the quarter?”

 

Amber sighed and put down the brown paper bag containing their beer. She nuzzled Joy’s hand against her cheek, “Jacques is probably buried in a trashy sorority girl somewhere and that’s why Marcel hasn’t heard from him. Not because some demon took him.”

 

Joy sighed. She didn’t like being the worrywart, but it was her nature. “What about that dead body the police fished out of the river? The one with its head cut off? Marcel said even werewolves don’t usually behead people.”

 

“So bad things are happening around us,” Amber stroked her cheek, “what else is new? At least we’re not those helpless girls we used to be.”

 

She silenced Joy’s protest with a soft, slow kiss until at last Joy gave in and wrapped herself around Amber’s body. Unable to resist, she used her fangs to pierce Amber’s lips. For a few moments it was only them and the throbbing quietness of the bayou, blood mingling on their hungry mouths.

 

When they broke apart, Joy smiled and leaned their foreheads together, “You’re such a bad influence.”

 

“The baddest.”

 

They both took swigs from the liquor bottle they’d stolen. It burned hot as blood down Joy’s throat.

 

Amber draped an arm over her shoulder “See, I told you it was worth it.”

 

But Joy wasn’t listening, she was staring at some gnarled tree roots half buried in the water some distance away. A strange, pale log floated there, resisting the current.

 

“What the hell is that?”

 

Joy stepped around Amber and squinted. The log was unnaturally still and fish-belly white. Then suddenly, it vanished into the dark water.

 

All her previous uneasiness returned to grip Joy. “Amber, I think we should-,”

 

There was a splash and a pale, twisted figure burst from the water at their feet. Joy saw lidless black eyes and a long, black tongue. Icy, paralyzing fear filled her veins.

 

Somewhere a heron screamed, shattering the moon’s silence.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“You expecting someone?’

 

Bonnie jumped at Loretta’s question. The two of them were closing and it was almost 3 a.m. Loretta was elbow-deep in dishes while she tackled the mopping. It was two days since she’d run into Klaus, and she kept expecting shadows to jump out and seize her at every corner.

 

“No,” Bonnie looked away from the door and hefted the mop again, “just thought I heard something.”

 

“Blondie giving you a ride?”

 

“What?”

 

“That dude monopolizing you Wednesday night. Looked like sugar-daddy material to me,” she teased.

 

Bonnie laughed,“Do me a favor and never say ‘sugar daddy’ again ok? He’s just someone I know from Virginia.”

 

Klaus hadn’t made any attempt to contact her since that night. She’d hoped to push the incident out of her mind but every time she checked her bank account, each time she warmed up her dollar-store soup noodles, each time she looked over her shoulder for Jacques’ vampires, she thought of Klaus saying Work for me and you can buy Mystic Falls for a playground.

 

“Hey turn the volume up,” Loretta jerked her head at the tv above the bar. Bonnie set her mop down and obliged. The local news was on, and a picture of a young girl with black braided hair and a nose-ring appeared on screen.

 

_“And in local news, a body identified as Amelia Esperanza, 18 years old, of West County, was discovered at the river this morning. While we await the coroner’s report, one gruesome fact remains, or rather doesn’t remain in the form of her severed head. Police are trawling the river for the missing body part but with as yet no results. Esperanza was an orphan living with her grandmother, Aurelia Esperanza, 60, a community member who is devastated by her granddaughter’s murder.”_

 

Loretta clucked her tongue, “Y’know that’s the second one this month?”

 

An older woman appeared onscreen, barely holding herself up behind a microphone as she urged the public to come forward with any information about Amelia. Her mop of salt-and-pepper hair reminded Bonnie of Grams.

 

Someone pounded on the door and they both looked away from the TV.

 

“We’re closed,” Loretta yelled.

 

Bonnie turned around, “I’ll tell them-,”

 

But she only took a few steps towards the door before it was torn off its hinges.

  
  


* * *

 

 

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

 

“Hmmm?” Klaus let his tongue follow the trickle of liquor from the woman’s clavicle to her pulse. He tasted powder, perfume and sweat along the way, mixed with the Macallens he’d dribbled down her breasts.

 

She started to wriggle playfully, pushing his hand away from beneath her sequinned mini-dress, “How come I’ve never seen you here before?”

 

He palmed her knee, pulling back to stare in her grey eyes until her eyelashes fluttered and she lost her train of thought.

 

“No I wanna know too,” the brunette on his left stopped stroking his thigh, giggling at her friend, “your accent sure isn’t Southern”, manicured fingernails grazed his shirt-collar. But her cajoling tone turned petulant when he shook off both their hands and leaned over to pour himself another whiskey. He’d lost count of how many he’d had since retiring to the private booth.

 

He was drunk, bored, and getting drunker. The whiskey warmth faded faster down his throat with each swig, and yet he could still hear rain tinkling on the pine-needles of a long-dead forest, Henrik’s body growing cold in his arms, and Mikael’s harsh voice shouting _Beast. Abomination._

 

He’d thought Mikael’s death would bring him absolution, but all he felt was an emptiness where his rage and fear used to be.

 

_Niklaus_

_Niklaus_

_Klaus!_

Fuck, now he was hearing bloody voices.

 

His two companions were giving him odd looks. For the life of him he couldn’t remember either of their names. Emptying out the bottle, he took one last swig. This time the burn was even more ephemeral. His tongue felt like ash and stone, not even the thought of draining the women behind him dry, not even the smell of their blood bubbling beneath the skin, could truly tempt him. He licked his lips and imagined the taste of witch’s blood, her blood.

 

Sweet little Bonnie Bennett. She’d refused his offer but there was still time for her to capitulate.

 

_Niklaus!_

_Klaus!_

 

What the bloody hell -

 

_Klaus!_

 

A hand touched his shoulder and he grabbed the wrist in a vice-like grip, making the brunette wince. “I wouldn’t do that, sweetheart,” he flung her hand off and she rubbed her sore wrist, muttering Asshole.

 

When he stood up he heard the voice again. Calling his name.

 

_Niklaus!_

 

Klaus strode into the men’s room, thinking a piss might clear his head. He’d just zipped up his fly and was washing his hands when the voice caught him off-guard again.

 

_Klaus!_

A figure moved in the mirror and he blinked. It was a woman, statuesque with long dark hair, a straight nose and almond eyes.

 

He turned around and saw only empty air.

 

Must be drunker than I thought.

 

“What in hell-,”

 

There she was again, in the mirror. He narrowed his eyes. Something about her face nagged him with familiarity. She didn’t move her lips, but he knew it was her voice that called his name. Dark eyes glowered at him, impatient and urgent.

 

_You have to get to Bonnie, now._

 

***

 

Sweat trickled down her spine, slipped off her forehead and into her eyes, salted and cracked her lips. Every muscle in her body was in agony, and a dull ache was throbbing at the base of her skull.

 

Bonnie focused each atom in her body on holding up the barrier spell between her and the vampire.

 

Loretta’s body lay at his feet, limbs akimbo and neck broken. She’d tried to run.

 

Bonnie knew her magic was about to give out, the pain shooting through her limbs signalled this, and when the barrier collapsed she would be helpless. Unless she could get to her purse in the break-room and the vials of vervain inside. If she could inflict some kind of pain she might stand a chance.

 

“What do you want?” she tried to sound authoritative, but her arms were starting to shake from the effort of staying outstretched. If she kept him distracted she might have enough time to make it to her purse.

 

The vampire took a step forward. He was tall and powerfully built, dressed in jeans and a military jacket, with a spiderweb tattoo on the side of his neck. His face might have been handsome, with its square jaw and aquiline nose, but his grey-green eyes were fixed on her like a hawk on a rat, and when his thin lips drew back from his teeth in a cold smile she cursed herself for not keeping the vervain on her. At least she had her necklace. “Don’t come any closer.”

 

“Ooh little kitty’s got claws,” he nudged the air between them with his foot, feeling the barrier of her magic, “you can’t hide forever darlin’. And even if you could -,” just like that his face changed, eyes going black and features contorting, “never was a patient man.”

 

He started pacing up and down, scanning the roof, trying to get to her. With each second she could sense his agitation, the growing menace in his eyes, an addict in desperate need of a fix.

 

_He wants my blood._

 

Bonnie kept backtracking, trying to get as close to the break room as possible before the barrier gave out, “You must be Jacques’ friend. What was your name again-,”

 

“Didn’t come here for small talk, sweet thing,” he licked his fangs.

 

Just a few more steps and she’d be in the room. She really wished she played poker. Bluffing was not on her list of skills.

 

“You want blood? Fine, just let me go home-”

 

He roared and lunged, sending tremors through the invisible shield that tore through her nerves. Bonnie thought fast. Dropping the shield, she used her last bit of magic to push him violently backwards and bolted for the break-room. She was almost dizzy, her head pounding like a drum. Her fingers grasped a vial before she felt herself yanked off her feet. Her back connected hard against the lockers and she slid to the ground with a groan. He put his hands on her shoulders and yanked her up.

 

“Fuck!” his skin sizzled where it brushed her necklace and she used the lapse to smash the vial of vervain into his face.

 

He released her with a snarl and Bonnie tried to rush for the door. She almost made it before he grabbed her by her hair. Banding an arm around her torso, he pulled her hair so her neck was at maximum arch, exposed and vulnerable.

 

“I don’t like to play with my food darlin’,” his hot, acrid breath fanned her cheek. Part of his jaw was skinless and bloody from the vervaine, but bloodlust glowered black and hot in his eyes. With a snarl he tore the vervaine necklace off her throat.

 

She didn’t know why she screamed when his fangs tore into her skin.

 

It wasn’t like anyone would hear her.

 

*****

  
  


Klaus wasn’t prone to second-guessing himself, but even the sturdiest bloke would surely think twice before listening to strange feminine apparitions giving them cryptic instructions. He kept glancing at the rear-view, expecting to see those dark slanted eyes as he sped towards the Red Raven. Instead he only heard the echoes of that voice saying _Get to Bonnie, now._

 

Still, the mystery of it all had his blood flowing like it hadn’t been back at the bar. And he needed Bonnie alive and unharmed if his plans were to go through.

 

As soon as he pulled up he saw the wreckage of the door. Rushing inside, Klaus found the red-headed waitress growing cold on the floor.

 

Only one other heartbeat was discernible.

 

He could smell her blood even before he saw the male vampire bent over Bonnie’s body in a feeding frenzy, slurping and growling as he lapped up blood. Klaus grabbed his shoulder and tore him away from the witch, but the vampire surprised him with a vicious side-swipe that sent him reeling. Klaus felt the metal lockers dent where his back smashed into them and he grunted, trying to salvage his lightning-fast reflexes from the dulling effects of alcohol.

 

Bonnie was on the floor, barely moving.

 

Her attacker faced him, black-veined eyes throbbing and high on witch’s blood in the vampire version of a PCP-rage. He charged Klaus like a bull, narrowly missing him as he leapt out of the way.

 

Cracking his neck,  Klaus positioning himself by Bonnie’s feet and squared his shoulders, “This is over. The witch is mine.” He could hear Bonnie’s pulse growing weaker with each second.

 

The vamp bared his fangs in mockery. His mouth was coated in blood. Bonnie’s blood. The entire room swam with its heady scent.

 

“Guess that makes you careless, don’t it boy?”

 

Klaus had him by throat before he could remember to move. He squeezed, saw his eyes pop as his feet lifted off the ground, jaw foaming and chomping. Through the haze of his own rage Klaus could swear the prick’s face looked like Mikael. Same tiny pugnacious eyes. Same bitter mouth. He tightened his grip until the vampire was choking, coughing up bloody bits of his own throat.

 

A small moan from Bonnie fell against his ears. She was still alive, but barely.

 

Klaus broke the vamp’s neck then smashed him down hard enough the back of his head cracked like an egg on the floor.

 

Kneeling by the semi-conscious witch, he slid an arm beneath her back and cradled her against his shoulder. The side of her throat looked like it was torn by a wolf.  Blood dripped from the mauled flesh, soaking her white-tshirt. A deadly pallor was creeping beneath her soft brown skin.

 

The scent of her blood assailed him like a gut-punch, and Klaus remembered he hadn’t fed. She made a small choking gasp in his arms, and a hunger so violent shuddered through him it made his vision swim. Bonnie’s head was lolling back on his arm, her bloodied throat exposed and beckoning.

 

It would be so easy, so sweet. Sink in his fangs, drain her past the edge of death, absorb the last throbbings of her furious heart into his veins. He could almost taste the tart rich flavor of her blood swirling over his tongue and coating the inside of his throat with sugar and spice. So easy, so sweet. His brain hummed a sing-song of desire. So so sweet. A sweet witch’s blood for his jaded appetite. Klaus groaned and his fangs started to descend of their own volition.

 

Just then, Bonnie’s eyes fluttered open, green as springtime in the forests of his childhood. He saw the confusion and fear there, the helpless anger. A small hand brushed his chest, like she was trying to push him away. Like she would fight him even with her throat half-torn open.

 

The scroll said: _only a Witch’s heart, and one pure as Water, Fire and Blood, but Stronger than all three._

 

He needed Bonnie alive in order to achieve something larger than temporary release. He could have all the power in the world at his fingertips, if he kept her alive long enough for his true purpose.

 

Her hand fell to the ground and those green eyes clouded over with unconsciousness.

 

Klaus opened the vein on his wrist and held it over her mouth. Blood dribbled onto her chin and lips but she made no move to drink. Setting her head gently on the floor, he parted her lips and eased his bleeding wrist between them. He then rubbed under her jaw to help her swallow. Slowly, he felt her mouth move, the tongue flicking his open vein.

 

Satisfied she would live, he lifted her up and carried her to his car. She would be unconscious for a long time, but already he could feel warmth returning to her flesh as his blood travelled through her veins, coursing through the heart that was the key to his future.

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

_"My haunted lungs_

_Ghost in the sheets…"_

                    _ **Haunted**_ by Beyoncé

* * *

 

**Four Months Earlier**

 

_She walked alone in a field of ash. The sky was grey through the skeletal, leafless trees, and the only light came from cold, distant stars._

_Bonnie had no idea what this place was, only that she couldn’t escape it.  At first she tried running, looking for the sun, screaming, but the dead forest had no end and the sky never dawned into daylight._

_Sometimes she thought she heard familiar voices, whispers, but they confused her because one time she swore she heard Caroline’s voice but the next it was her Grams, and they couldn’t all be in the same place could they? Was she alive or were they dead?_

_At last she gave up. A coldness settled into her flesh, and she lay down on the ash soft as feathers and let the black sky fill her eyes until she felt like she was floating. How long she lay there, Bonnie didn’t know, but with each moment she felt herself grow lighter, as though her body was slowly dissolving, and after a while it seemed almost peaceful to allow the dissolution, to melt away and cease existing._

_“For Isis’ sake. Stop melting away.”_

_This time the voice was different, it was full-bodied and clear and she could hear footsteps. Bonnie scrambled to sit up as a tall, elegant figure came into view. Dark glittering skirts moved with each step until the woman stood in front of her, and Bonnie took in the feminine, regal face with its almond-shaped eyes and halo of long dark curls._

_A name like the torn fragment of a dream floated through her mind. “Qetsiyah...what do you want?”_

_A tilt of the head was followed by an enigmatic smile. “I think the question is, what do you want, Bonnie?”_

_“I want to know why I’m here.”_

_“Simple. You’re here because you once again disobeyed the ‘mighty’ spirits by trying to resurrect your Jeremy.”  It seemed like Qetsiyah had no large love for the spirits._

_“So I’m....dead?” as she said the words, a cold wind swept the ground, raising a flurry of ashes around her and rattling the bare branches._

_Qetsiyah looked down at her, dark hair waving around her shoulders and face, “No. Not yet. Not if you let me help you.”_

_“Why would you help me?”_

_“Because I know what it’s like to earn the wrath of the powers that be. Because I was once young and naive too,” her dark eyes glowed like embers, “And because we can help each other.”_

_“How?”_

_Qetsiyah clicked her tongue in impatience, “There will be time for questions later. If you linger here much longer, your connection to your body will be severed. Decide, now.”_

_She extended a graceful hand to her, and Bonnie spotted a ring with a strange symbol, a crescent moon bracketing a single round opal.  Her eyes fixated on the pale luminous orb._

_The fingers did an impatient wiggle when Bonnie hesitated._

_“Stand up, girl.”_

_And so she did._

_The sky dissolved into a sea of clouds._

_The face of a different woman, dressed in a white lab-coat, smiled above her, “Welcome back, Bonnie.”_

__  
  


* * *

 

**Present Day, New Orleans**

Klaus fingered the heavy yellow paper of the leather-bound book on his lap, recognizing the ancient symbol of Hecate: a crescent cradling the full moon. There was an engraving beside it of a statuesque witch with black hair and a regal face, the same woman who’d appeared mysteriously to him the other night. Qetsiyah was the name written by her image. One of Bonnie’s many powerful ancestors. She really was witch royalty.

 

“Admit it, Nik. You’ve always had a weakness for the girl.”

 

He and Rebekah had finished dinner and were drinking wine in the study, waiting for Marcel to arrive. Rebekah was peevish about Marcel coming over and, when Klaus had ignored her demands to un-invite him, started needling him with comments about Bonnie.

 

“Her powers were wasted on the Salvatores and their precious doppelganger,” he turned another page, eyes scanning the Latin inscriptions, “you know how I hate squandered power.”

 

Rebekah gave a hollow laugh, toying with her empty wine glass, “‘Squandered power’ is that a fancy way of saying ‘squandered chance to get my dick in another witch’?”

 

“I’m sure Marcel will be thrilled to see the years have dimmed neither your charm nor your inability to handle alcohol,” he proffered a bland smile.

 

“You’re an arse, Nik.” she narrowed her eyes before walking over to the cabinet and pouring herself another glass.

 

He tuned her out. Normally he enjoyed bickering with Rebekah because she was so easily irritated, but tonight there was truth in her comments even though he’d rather stab his eye out with a pencil than admit it.

 

And the truth was, ever since he’d saved Bonnie from that ravenous vampire and fed her his blood, he couldn’t take his mind off her.

 

This wasn’t like Mystic Falls, when the little witch with her forest-nymph eyes and whip-smart tongue was, no matter how alluring, only a stepping stone to making hybrids and Unlinking himself. No, this time everything depended on keeping her safe until the time was right for the Sacrifice. He couldn’t resort to threats against her friends (she might acquiesce at first but she would be constantly plotting how to boil him in a vat of wolfsbane), he needed to earn her trust and keep her, willingly, at his side. Keep her in the dark right up until he slid the knife across her lovely neck.

 

But even that couldn’t quite explain why his thoughts constantly strayed to her, why he couldn’t walk into the house without listening for the sound of her bird-like heartbeat. It didn’t explain why he found himself drawn to her in a wholly different way. For the past two days as Bonnie lay unconscious, recovering with the aid of his blood in her system, her presence hung around him like a humid, intoxicating fragrance. His tongue was starved for her blood. At night he could feel her breath caress the nape of his neck like she was lying next to him instead of two rooms away.

 

He’d asked Rebekah to clean her up and change her blood-stained clothes as well as purchase her some new ones. Maybe Rebekah had seen him standing in the doorway to Bonnie’s room, watching her chest rise and fall in sleep, and fighting off the hunger for her blood.

 

“What makes you think she’ll stay anyway” Rebekah returned to her seat on the sofa with a replenished glass of merlot, “instead of turning your brain to minced-meat as soon as she wakes up?”

 

“Her powers are weak, almost non-existent. And she’s as destitute as a lamb. There’s nowhere else for her to go - ”

 

“Except into your waiting arms so you can have a new pet.” she finished.

 

Klaus glanced up at her, “I have no use for pets, Bekah. But you can have as many as you wish once this is over.”

 

“Once what is over? I still don’t know what we’re doing here Nik.”

 

“You mean this isn’t a family visit?” Marcel Gerard’s rich, lilting voice preceded him into the room.

 

Klaus saw his sister flush to the roots of her hair while he stood up to greet his former pupil. “What’ll it be, Marcellus, scotch or do you still prefer the old Southern brandies?”

 

Marcel pried his eyes from Rebekah, “Sorry I’m late. Two more of my vampires have gone missing. No sign of them yet.”

 

Klaus opened his liqour cabinet and retrieved two bottles and a decanter, “You think they were taken by whatever it was that took your lieutenant...Jacques was his name?”

 

“You have lieutenants?” Rebekah crossed her arms, “since when?”

 

“Since I took New Orleans under my care,” Marcel accepted the glass of scotch and raised it in Rebekah’s direction, “‘king’ sounds so archaic. People are wary of kings. What they want is a strategist, a general.”

 

Klaus felt the corner of his mouth twitch in approval, “I’m impressed.”  Marcel clinked their glasses together.

 

Rebekah turned on her heel and swept out of the room.

 

“Give her time,” Klaus said to the frowning Marcel, “Bekah’s more stubborn than I am.”

 

Marcel took a drink of scotch,  “So, what are you really doing here, old friend?”

 

“I’ve neglected this beautiful city for much too long,” Klaus sprawled himself on the sofa, resting his ankle on the other knee, “what’s all this I hear about headless bodies and the witches leaving?”

 

“You tell me,” the younger vampire sat down across from him and gave him a searching look,“if I didn’t know better I’d say someone was trying to stage a coup.”

 

He threw back his head laughing, “Surely you don’t think it’s me? I’m only here to take in the balmy Southern air. And offer any assistance you might need.”

 

Marcel smiled over his glass, though his eyes remained speculative, “Is that why you’ve kidnapped the witch we were buying blood from?”

 

“Rescued, Marcel. One of your boys was tapping the supply chain. Witch’s blood can be a dangerous temptation.”

 

“But a powerful antidote to almost any supernatural poison.”

 

Klaus nodded in approval, “I think I might know who’s responsible for the missing heads. And your missing vampires.”

 

Marcel leaned forward. Just then, they were interrupted by the distant sound of glass shattering above them.

  
  


* * *

 

 

She awoke with a suffocating sense of deja vu, expecting the sterile beige and cream of hospital room walls and the smell of Lysol. But there was no IV in her arm, no quiet beeping of strange machines around her bed. In fact, this bed was definitely not a hospital bed. It was too large and lushly outfitted with a mint-green down comforter.

 

Bonnie sat up and almost instantly regretted it. Rubbing her aching temple, she took in her surroundings. Delicate white curtains and pale-green furnishings. A cherry-wood dresser and vanity and shiny hardwood floors.

 

Pushing the covers off, she noticed she was dressed in a soft cornflower-blue cotton nightie, one she had no memory of putting on.

 

Ok, Bonnie, stay calm. There’s an explanation for this.

 

When her feet touched the ground, she had to hold the end table for support as a wave of dizziness swept over her. She noticed something else on the end-table: a plate of cookies and a pitcher of iced water with lemon slices floating. There was barely any condensation on the glass, which meant someone had put it there only a few minutes ago. Bonnie poured herself a glass and raised it to her parched lips. But the water turned bloody, and instead of a glass her fingers held a strong, masculine wrist tight to her mouth as she lapped up the hot, bubbling blood.

 

The glass slipped and shattered at her feet.

 

She remembered the snap of Loretta’s neck being broken, her own desperate attempt to use vervain on an enraged vamp, and his teeth tearing, slobbering at her throat, grunting as he fed on her blood. And then...

 

Ice water touched her toes, making her jump.

 

_Klaus._

 

A hot wave of memory washed over her. He’d fed her his blood, and what’s more, she’d drunk it willingly. Shuddering, she scanned her surroundings, looking for a way to escape.

 

Her vervain necklace was gone, and her magic was barely a flicker. Even at her most powerful, Klaus was not an adversary she could face unaided. Still, she wasn’t about to sit around and wait for whatever it is he had planned.

 

Glancing around the room, her eyes rested on a wooden table lamp decorated with exquisite green hummingbirds. It looked like the sort of thing up for auction at Sothebys. Bonnie removed the shade and smashed the wood against the wall. Once, twice, until its slender, carved body splintered into the semblance of a stake. An imperfect weapon. But a weapon nonetheless.

 

She turned to find Klaus lounging in the doorway, arms crossed and a half-smile on his face. His steel-blue eyes fixed her with an intense scrutiny that was familiar and disarming all at once.

 

“Such a pity when beautiful things get broken.”

 

Bonnie held the stake by her hip, “Wood can still hurt a vampire, even an Original.”

 

Klaus took in the sight of her slight figure, barefoot with tousled hair, in a blue babydoll nightie that hit mid-thigh, threatening him with an impromptu wooden stake. Her heartbeat was a loud, luscious thumping in his ear, her scent making him ravenous in a hundred different ways. But he managed, with some effort, to tether the ravening wolf; she was a wounded bird, and if he didn’t approach with quiet caution she would probably kill herself trying to escape.

 

He pushed off from the doorframe took a few steps into the room, “That won’t be necessary, love,” he said as she held up the stake, “You’re free to go, if you wish.

 

Confusion creased her brow, “You’re lying.”

 

Broken shards from the water-glass crunched under his boots as he stood in front of her. Bonnie swallowed the dryness in her throat as the memory of drinking his blood flashed into her mind. His aftershave teased her senses, and underneath her fear something else, something warm and languid, unfurled itself all along her skin. She felt sparks of magic slowly come to life within her with each step that brought him closer to her.

 

“I’ll put you in a cab myself, and you can forget you ever saw me. But first, there’s something I want to show you.”

 

She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

 

Klaus stepped aside, “Right this way.”

 

“You know this is how Texas Chainsaw Massacre started off right?”

 

He pulled an expression of seriousness so perfect it was disconcerting. Only the intense flicker of his blue-grey eyes gave him away as anything but angelic. “I give you my word, no harm will come to you.”

 

She felt like she was waking from the coma all over again. Everything was saturated in dizzying color and she could barely feel her extremities. But more disconcerting was her acute awareness of the warmth radiating from the hybrid vampire. Like a hearth on a cold night, she felt the inexplicable urge to curl into that warmth and absorb it into the pores of her skin.

 

She tried to wrap her head around what has happening. If Klaus wanted her dead or restrained, she wouldn’t be standing here. So what did he want?

 

Her fingers curled tighter against the stake. Only one way to find out. “Lead the way.”

 

Bonnie followed him down the hallway. No, Klaus was definitely not trying to kill or maim her. But she knew from experience that smooth-talking, indolent Klaus was far more dangerous than violent, raging Klaus. His nature was as mercurial as lightning, deceptive as the calm before a storm.

 

Klaus opened a door and went down some stairs, and after a few moments of hesitation Bonnie followed. The cool, dark basement air made goose-flesh ripple her bare skin. Suddenly a light switched on, blinding her. When her eyes re-focused she had to stifle a gasp. It was a mini-library, but also much, much more. Grimoires lined the shelves from floor to ceiling, embossed with beautiful tantalizing symbols that filled her eyes like stars fill the sky. There were chests of blood-moon candles and various potions she couldn’t even recognize in beautiful glass bottles. Ancient maps covered the walls.

 

She could sense the storehouse of magical knowledge concentrated like aged wine in this small room. A feathery ghost of longing brushed for the innocent excitement of magic. Before the darkness and the death and the terrible, terrible prices exacted from her. An empty ache lodged in her chest.

 

Klaus watched her lower the stake to her side as her eyes drank up the room. Her face lightened until she almost looked like the girl he remembered from Mystic Falls. He suppressed the look of triumph threatening to dawn on his own face. He’d gone about this all wrong when he approached her at the Red Raven. He should’ve known that her magic, and by extension her ability to protect others and herself, ranked far higher than any monetary compensation. The girl could be living out a life of Dickensian poverty and she’d still rush to help her friends with no thought of reward.

 

“Do you know why your powers are so weak?”

 

His voice drew her out of the trance, and she replied without even thinking, “The spirits. They’re punishing me for disobeying the rules by cutting off my connection to my magic.”

 

“Ah those pesky spirits again,” Klaus came to stand behind her, “I understand how you feel love.”

 

She turned to him with a skeptical face.

 

“When my father learned of my werewolf nature, he and Elijah tied me down, while my mother performed a spell that she thought would forever keep me from my full powers. In their eyes, in the eyes of the spirits, I wasn’t supposed to exist. They had no understanding of what I was, what I could be,” he watched the play of emotion across her feminine face, “and now, the spirits have done the same to you.”

 

Bonnie thought of Qetsiyah’s words. _Because I know what it’s like to earn the wrath of the powers that be._

 

“You aren’t the first witch to be punished,” Klaus continued, “and you won’t be the last. I have the Grimoires of nearly ten centuries of witches at my disposal. Say the word, and they can be at yours. You can find a way to get your powers back. And I can get the witchy assistance I need.”

 

In the small room her scent beckoned silkily to his senses, sweet and warm like dusk in the summertime. He felt the slightest twinge of remorse: she was so very vulnerable and lost that this was almost too easy. But he buried those thoughts just as quickly. The hunter who looked too long in the doe’s eyes was doomed to failure.

 

Bonnie felt her head swimming. Was it really possible that after months of living on bare threads of magic, she could maybe find a way back to her powers? To feeling the steady strong thrum of ancient magic in her veins?

But this was Klaus. No matter how charming or generous he was being, he always had an ulterior motive. Was she willing to gamble with the devil for a chance to be strong and self-sufficient again? But really, how could there be a choice, when her world was so starkly divided into mortal and immortal, human and vampire, the innocent and the powerful.

  
  


She looked down at the lone stake in her hand.

 

“What do I have to do?”

  
  


* * *

 

 

The last thing Joy remembered was a spray of something sharp and bitter all across her mouth. It wasn’t blood, the taste was sharp and foul like an ooze from rotting corpses. It burned down her throat like acid and she coughed and coughed, clawing at her neck until the world grew dark around her.

 

And then came a silence so white and blinding she forgot the sound of her own breathing.

 

Slowly, the whiteness melted into cool mist, filled her ears, her nose, her mouth. Made her brain feel like cotton-candy. Everything was still and peaceful. She could remember nothing, could think nothing, and it was so very blissful.

 

“Open your eyes.”

 

She did so, and a dank, grey stone chamber came into focus. Looking for the source of that voice, she saw a pair of intense violet eyes in a white, white face. Platinum-colored hair reflected the dim light.

 

Joy saw the thin, colorless lips move, but their words echoed inside her head. The words became her own thoughts.

 

“Do you know what you must do?”

 

_Whatever you ask._

 

“Good girl. I need you to bring me Marcel Gerard.”

 

Tell me how.

  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

_"All she wanted_

_was find a place to stretch her bones_

_A place to lengthen her smiles_

_and spread her hair."_

                  - _**you are oceanic**_  by Tapiwa Mugabe

* * *

 

Grams used to tell her that the spirits of dead children craved sugar almost as much as they craved the lives that were stolen from them, that you could tell a child-spirit was in the room if the sugar started disappearing and the molasses grew hard. Just a little taste of sweetness, and another, and another. Just a little slice of living.

 

She wasn’t a child but she’d been close enough to dead. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t stop herself after one, two, three, four beignets at Cafe Du Monde, her fingers icing-coated with the mixture of powdered sugar and saliva. Bonnie was so honed in on licking the sweetness off her fingers she didn’t even notice the handsome vampire until he sat down across from her.

 

“Careful that sweet tooth doesn’t kill you,” Marcel Gerard flashed her a smile as white and perfect as the sugar on her beignets.

 

“I’ll survive.” Bonnie finished licking off her thumb.

 

His smile never wavered, “Does Klaus know you’ve flown the coop?”

 

“I’m not his prisoner, I come and go as I please.”

 

“Really? So you won’t mind if I just answer this call from him -,” Marcel held up his glowing phone, “ - maybe ask him to join us for coffee and beignets - ,”

 

Her face gave her away. He slid the phone, unanswered, back into the pocket of his jeans and crossed his well-muscled arms,“I didn’t think so.”

 

“Fine. Klaus doesn’t know I’m here. And he doesn’t know I’m meeting with you.” When he remained silent, she continued, “I need some information.”

 

Marcel’s inclined his head, “I’m listening.”

 

“I want to know what Klaus is up to. What he’s really up to. I know him and he never plays a card without holding six to his chest. I need to know what his plans are.”

 

“And you think I’ll help you because...?”

 

Bonnie glanced around to make sure they weren’t being watched and reached in her purse. She watched Marcel’s eyes grow wide as she unzipped the freezer pack to show him the small bag of blood inside. His pupils widened, and she saw him visibly swallow.

 

Just as quickly, and not without some triumph, she put the bag back in her purse. “I’ve been doing my research,  and the supernatural world has three main uses for witch’s blood: antidote, pleasure, and power. I don’t know you well, but you seem too smart to just be a drug runner. Which leaves antidote, and power.”

 

“How many more of those bags do you have?” Marcel’s voice sounded almost dazed.

 

“A half dozen, back at my apartment. And before you send anyone out there, the stash is protected with a spell. It’s not a very powerful spell, but it’s nifty: if anyone breaks it, the bags go up in flames.”

 

“I’m impressed.”

 

“I needed insurance.”

 

“So I tell you what Klaus is plotting and you give me the blood. There’s just one problem,” Marcel rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward, “I’m as ignorant of his plans as you are.”

 

“Then find out. I don’t know why my blood is such a high premium here but I bet it’s a good enough incentive.”

 

Marcel made a scoffing sound, and his lips pursed. For a second Bonnie thought he might divulge something about his history with Klaus, but he only turned a shrewd look on her: “And if I can prevail, find out what Klaus is plotting, what then?”

 

“Then we both make decisions,” she shrugged, gathering her things,“protect what we want to protect.”

 

“Hmm,” Marcel leaned back in his chair, flashed another smile, “and why do you think I won’t just kidnap you instead? Keep you as my own personal supply of witch’s blood. Klaus isn’t in the Quarter right now, I’d sense him if he were, you’re all alone in a city that belongs to me,” he lowered his voice, “and word on the street is, your powers aren’t what they used to be.”

 

Bonnie narrowed her eyes.

 

Marcel laughed, “Sweetheart, Klaus isn’t the only one playing poker here. I think you’re forgetting your cards.”

 

“Excuse me?’

 

He folded his arms on the table and leaned into them, “Do you know why you were almost torn apart a week ago, while today you walked down the street without anyone so much as looking twice your way? And do you know why I’m sitting across from you at a coffee shop instead of snapping your neck and just taking that blood bag? It’s because everyone knows you’re under Klaus’ protection, and he doesn’t like people touching his valuables. So if I were you, I’d play my cards right, bat those witchy green eyes a few times in the right direction, and you’ll have all the information you need.”

 

Bonnie’s head reeled. Was he suggesting - No, it couldn’t be. What she and Klaus had was a business transaction, a deal with the devil in exchange for something she desperately needed. Still, she had to fight the memory of the few times he’d touched her and how her magic, her whole body, had inflamed. Or that look she caught in his eyes sometimes, halfway between hunger and something else, something far less scrutable and far more dangerous.

 

Marcel nodded as if reading her thoughts, “I think you know what I mean. Find out what Klaus wants with you, and you’ll find out what he’s really got up his sleeve.”

 

She frowned, “So you won’t help me?”

 

“As tempting as your blood is, I need Klaus to trust me.”

 

“Good luck. The only person Klaus trusts is the man in the mirror.”

 

“You’d be surprised. Demonstrate your unwavering loyalty, your innocence, and soon he might be the one asking for your trust.”

 

While Bonnie digested this information, Marcel got to his feet and prepared to leave. As he passed he put a hand on her shoulder and bent close to her ear, “Did you know, that as recently as the 1900’s, cocaine was sold as a medicinal drug?”

 

“What does that -,”

 

“You said, power, pleasure or antidote. Well the last two aren’t always mutually exclusive,” he straightened up and gave her another quick smile, “good luck in your research Bonnie.”

  


* * *

 

 

He’d always loved the color green.

 

When he was a boy, green was the promise of warmer days, of walking the fresh plains with his brothers (and avoiding their father), of sunlight on his upturned face when he sat alone in the pine woods, tracing shapes on an old rag with stolen charcoal.

 

It was the somber color of those old pines, unchanged for generations, weathering the harshest winters.

 

It was the  striking color of a young witch’s dancing eyes, when he first saw her on a sunlit football field in Mystic Falls.

 

Klaus swirled his brush in the paint pot and blotted more shadowy green onto his canvas. A touch there, some brushstrokes here, and the forest of his childhood home loomed before him. It was a landscape scene of blurry pine trees beneath a grey sky, with a small figure in the foreground. For days he’d been perfecting every detail of the forest, from the dappled shadows of the trees, to the dark variegated green of foliage, to the carefully solemn sky. Only the small human figure remained an outline. Every time his hand wandered towards it, he wrenched it back. In his head, the figure was Henrik, young and tender with the wind in his dark hair, smiling out at the viewer as though he wasn’t a thousand years dead. Smiling at him, the favourite brother who should’ve protected him.

 

But Klaus knew that vision of Henrik would never be. His brush would run red, and Henrik wouldn’t be a smiling boy but a bloodied corpse.

 

He’d been working on the same landscape for a week now.

 

A faint prickle along the back of his neck made him put his brush down and reach for the half-empty glass of Scotch, swivelling on his drafting chair to look out the French doors. Sure enough, as he peered into the dusky golden sunlight back-lighting the Spanish moss, he noticed Bonnie walking up the front lawn.

 

He could see her anxiety by the hunch of her shoulders and the frantic pace of her steps, but he could sense it too, little filaments in the air that touched his spine and made him sit up. After a few days he was now familiar with the sensation, but it still unnerved him to be so acutely aware of another person’s moods and emotions not through calculated knowledge but through a sensory empathy. Klaus chalked it up to sharing his blood with her that night she almost died, although he’d never felt a blood-forged connection quite like it.

 

He watched her stride towards his studio, sweeping in the French doors and shutting them briskly behind her. The hem of her flowery blue-and-white sundress fluttered for a moment before settling over the smooth brown thighs. A fragrance of sweet salty cinnamon filled the air, and he unconsciously licked his lips. And there was the seductive drumbeat of her heart, an enticing reminder that he hadn’t fed yet, _thum-thump thum-thump thum-thump._

 

“Something you need, love?”

 

Bonnie jumped and whirled to face him, dark ponytailed curls bouncing all around her face.  She clearly hadn’t expected to see him.

 

“How was the Quarter?” he asked as she tried to hurry past him. She froze.

 

“Are you having me followed?” Bonnie crossed her arms, “I thought I was your employee, not your prisoner.”

 

She ignored his charming smirk, the way his grey Henley sat on the lean, muscular frame with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and little dabs of paint on his forearms and fingers. He was such a cliche. But cliches were popular for a reason.

 

He wiped his hands on a rag and walked languidly up to her before brushing his thumb across her cheek. It came away with a small white smudge and he licked off the bit of powdered sugar.

 

“I bet you were a terrible liar as a child. Got caught with your hand in the sugar all the time.” His hand caressed her hip while he murmured into her hair.

 

“The proper term is ‘hand in the cookie jar’,” she wanted to get away from him and the strange, flustery feeling he caused. Marcel had insinuated that she use whatever it was that sparked between them to her advantage, but how could she when it, and Klaus, caught her off guard so easily?

 

He was trying to keep his distance and not scare her away, but it was getting harder each time they were alone together to keep his hands off her delectable self. He couldn’t resist one last impudence, “If you need some sugar -,”

 

Bonnie flushed to the roots of her hair and wrenched herself away from him, “I’ll eat more beignets. Hey! -” he’d reached into her purse and pulled out the freezer pack with the blood-bag inside.

 

His eyes grew dark as he surveyed the sloshing, ruby liquid, “How very thoughtful of you. I’m positively famished.”

 

She knew he’d figured out where she was and why she’d taken the blood, but he was obviously pretending otherwise. Why?

 

“Give that back. It’s mine.”

 

“And what if I want it because it’s yours?” his voice was low, husky, and she wondered if this was one small chance, one tiny weakness for her to exploit.

 

“I won’t be your live-in-snack, Klaus.”

 

“I see,” he grinned devilishly, “Bonnie Bennett is a bottle-only beverage, never on-tap.”

 

“You’re disgusting.”

 

Before she could protest further he’d torn into the blood-bag and drained it in one go. She watched in fascinated horror as his throat bobbed with each swallow, drinking her blood like it was the rarest, most expensive wine. Or the last drop of water in a scorching desert. Klaus was not a messy drinker, and only the smallest drop of blood clung to the side of his mouth when his eyes slowly opened, black fading into familiar, sated blue. His fangs made his smile seem wider somehow. Antidote, power, pleasure. Klaus wasn’t poisoned, and he was already as physically powerful as any creature was capable of being. Which left...

 

Did her blood taste that good? A confused blur of excitement and fear thrilled through her as they stared at each other, the air grown heavy.

 

“I should go back to the grimoires.”

 

She scurried out of the room and down to the basement where she’d been spending most of her time. The sooner she found a way to revitalize her powers, the sooner this little cat-and-mouse game with Klaus would be over. She wasn’t a fool, she knew she wouldn’t be able to extricate herself so easily. Even the powers of heaven and earth had their work cut out for them to dissuade Klaus once he set his mind on something. But if she could just get her old power back, she wouldn’t feel so helpless.

 

An uneasy feeling curled in the pit of her stomach as she thought of how Klaus’ nearness affected her magic.

 

She wanted to be powerful again, desperately so, but at what cost?

 

* * *

 

 

Rebekah was wrestling six massive shopping bags into her trunk when suddenly she felt the burden lifted. Marcel eased in the rest of her haul and shut the trunk, looking handsome and sexy as she ever remembered in a grey muscle tee and well-turned jeans.

 

“Rebekah Mikaelson,” he drawled, “still as beautiful. And still as addicted to retail.”

 

She glared at him, fishing in her purse for the car keys, “What do you want Marcel?”

 

“The pleasure of your company.”

 

“Sod off,” she had the door open but he touched her hand, raising it to his lips.

 

“I owe you an apology. Several apologies,” he added when she kept frowning, “please Bex, let me make it up to you.”

 

 _Bex._ She hadn’t heard that nickname in so long. Lifetimes, really. She almost felt young again, and god that was a rare feeling these days. Then she felt tired, dejected.

 

“Save it Marcel. Whatever lies Niklaus is asking you to spin, I’m not that foolish-,” her words were cut off by his mouth on hers, the slow and deep kiss stealing the rest of her thoughts and making her sway, involuntarily, into his arms.

 

“Klaus doesn’t know I’m here,” Marcel whispered when they parted, “And if he did, I wouldn’t care. I’ve never lied about my intentions.”

 

“Then why did you -,” she bit her lip, catching the tide of emotion in her throat.

 

“Bex, give me one night. Walk down to the bayou with me, like we used to. I’ll explain everything.”

 

She took a deep breath, “I need some time to think.”

 

“Meet me there?”

 

Extricating herself, she slid into her car and shut the door before rolling the window down, “Just this once. After this we’re finished, for good.”

 

Marcel grinned, “I missed you, Bex.”

 

Rebekah rolled her eyes before driving off, but couldn’t help the tiniest tug of a smile on her lips.

 

* * *

 

 

“Ugh!” Bonnie let a hefty grimoire fall to the ground with far less care than a centuries old tome deserved, but her frustration was at a peak. She’d been poring through volume after volume but short of gruesome human sacrifices she was unwilling to even consider, restoring a witch’s damaged powers seemed nearly impossible.

 

_You’re looking in the wrong place._

 

She jumped up at the sound of the smooth, feminine voice that so far had only appeared in her dreams. Qetsiyah.

 

Bonnie glanced frantically around the room before a ghostly touch brushed her shoulder.

_Stop trying to see me you foolish girl, and just listen._

 

“How are you speaking to me? And what do you want?”

 

_What I want will be revealed in the fulness of time. Right now, you need your powers back._

 

“I’m trying, believe me. But I won’t murder any innocents and I’m not drinking the blood of a hundred virgins.”

 

_Tsk-tsk calm your moral high horse Bonnie, nothing so dramatic as that. What you need is some Earth Magic. And you won’t find it in these dusty old Grimoires._

She remembered her Grams mentioning this years ago, about how the witches of old had devised spells to channel and tap the power of the earth, to weave themselves into the divine harmony of nature and share in its ancient fountain of magic.

 

“Tell me.”

 

_Better yet, let me show you._

There was a searing, icy touch on her temple, and a swarm of visions came to her, each one more vivid than the last: witches and warlocks, naked, entwined in the arms of their lovers while the full moon blazed overhead. Each of them had a cut on their palm from which the blood flowed out into the earth, leaving smudges on their skin that went unnoticed in the heat of the coupling.

In the last vision a woman stood up naked and flushed. She looked into Bonnie’s eyes, before transforming into a magnificent wolf. Her lover, a witch, petted the mighty creature, her own magic glowing in her eyes.

 

Bonnie came back to herself with a gasp. Qetsiyah was gone, but the images she’d shown her remained, glowing, in her mind.

 

Power.

 

Pleasure.

 

Could she risk the sticky embrace of both? Did she want one bad enough to take a chance on the other?

 

She looked around the room at the mess of up-ended grimoires that had yielded her nothing, and thought about her duties, her responsibilities, her currently inability to protect herself or anyone who needed her protection. Her last shred of hope had been to bribe Marcel with her blood, and get the information she needed to stay abreast of things. But Klaus was too powerful a figure for anyone to cross lightly.

 

And she was tired of feeling like she’d brought butter knives to a swordfight.

 

Before she lost her nerve, she charged up the stairs and into Klaus’ studio. He’d abandoned his painting and sat with his long legs crossed at the ankle, staring into the fire with a half-empty glass of scotch in his hand. He looked up as she entered, raising his eyebrows at her silent, intense stare. “Come to give me a second helping love?”

 

She almost slapped him, but Bonnie pushed down her better, more reasonable instincts, and without giving him a chance to ask questions, bent over his chair, curled her fingers into the hair on his nape, and kissed him hard.

  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

_"He told me I was so small_

_I told him, Water me_

_I promise I can grow tall_

_When making love is free."_

                            - _ **Water me**_ by FKA Twigs

* * *

 

Bonnie woke up with a pounding headache and a nagging sense of mortification. She fingered the plush white upholstery of the ottoman she’d spent the night on and licked her cracked lips, tasting faded Scotch and -

 

She sat bolt upright. _Klaus._ Her dehydrated body launched a throbbing protest against her temples and she cradled her own head with a groan.

 

Slowly, pieces of last night came back, making her cringe until she wanted to curl up in the fetal position and never wake up. After her vision from Qetsiyah she'd been full of determination to test the “earth magic” theory. God knows where she got the nerve or the recklessness, but she'd all but jumped Klaus' unsuspecting bones.

  
  


_That first hard clash of lips had been awkward as she'd fought away all the clamoring voices in her head, focusing on the sweet heat of power that radiated from his body through hers._

_Then, the crash of a Scotch glass hitting the floor. His fingers grabbed a fistful of her hair, his other arm pulled her onto his lap, she let out a tiny squeak of surprise and then, like two pieces of a puzzle, their lips found the perfect angle. Unwilling to lose her advantage, Bonnie took hold of his shoulders and shoved him into the chair, slanting her mouth fiercely over his own. Klaus laughed into the kiss. He tasted of mint and scotch, and his aftershave smelled delicious._

_When she was sure she had enough, Bonnie tried to break free, but Klaus had other ideas. His hands splayed across her back, running possessively over her shoulder blades while his mouth claimed her neck with kisses. Suddenly he froze -_

Bonnie looked around at the studio. Paintings hung askew on the walls, bits of broken pottery littered the floor and paint splattered the ground and the furniture like the aftermath of hurricane winds. And really, after she gave Klaus that aneurysm and broke out of the embrace, the next couple hours had gone down like a tropical storm...

 

_She stumbled to her feet, breathless from the adrenaline and from the rush of power through her veins. Strong, pulsing. At last._

_Klaus keeled over out of his chair as she popped the little blood vessels in his head._

_“Bonnie!” He fell to his knees, clutching his head, and the sound of her name thrilled her all over again. He conquered her assault at the same moment she felt the tell-tale trickle of blood on her upper lip. A dizzying blur of speed and he had her pinned up against a wall. His eyes had gone dark and glittering, devouring her face and zeroing in on the blood leaking out of her nose. As if unable to stop himself, he sucked it off her mouth, and she used his lapse to deepen the kiss, drawing on more power through the hungry embrace._

_“What are you playing at, love,” he growled when they parted for air._

_She caught her breath, “Watch, and learn.” He went flying across the room, crashing into an easel that snapped with impact._

_Klaus got slowly to his feet, dusting wood splints of his shirt and flashing her a wicked smile that signalled his understanding._

_They played a game of kiss-and-kill for hours, Bonnie taking what she needed to bring him down, Klaus always coming back for more. After the third and fourth time she realized that she’d already verified her suspicions about Klaus and his physical closeness charging up her magic, but she couldn’t stop herself from doing it again, and again, tasting the sweetness of brief triumph and the rush of a well-matched opponent. Soon she was covered in sweat, and one time he came much too close (and if she was honest with herself, she’d let him) to biting her before she sucked up enough power to hurl him violently away._

Bonnie realized one of the straps were torn off her dress, and paint splotches marred the skirt. There were a couple small bruises on her legs, and she already knew her neck was covered in the evidence of his attentions. Well, she’d have to get used to more than a couple of hickeys if she was gonna see the ritual through. Thank god none of her crew from Mystic Falls were here.

 

Where the heck was Klaus anyway?

 

She couldn’t remember falling asleep, which meant - _oh god_ \- he’d probably placed her on the ottoman himself before taking off. Scrambling up, she rubbed her aching head and stepped around the broken ceramics. Her eye fell on a painting of a deep green forest that had escaped the turmoil of last night. Bonnie gazed into the forestscape that was rendered dream-like by exquisite brushwork, wondering who the ghostly outline in the foreground was supposed to be. The more she stared, the more her vision was slowly permeated with the deep, shadowy green, almost like she was falling into the depths of that forest.

 

She shook her head to clear it. After some water, then some coffee, then some food, she’d have to get stuff ready for the ritual. Bonnie swallowed the nervousness threatening to lodge in her throat. If Klaus’ actions last night were anything to go by, and considering he was paying her a fortune to read up on old magic, he wanted her to regain her powers as much as she did. She didn’t know why yet, but after she got her powers back it wouldn’t matter. She’d be able to execute the plan that had been taking root inside her during the past week as she pored over Grimoire after Grimoire full of powerful spells.

 

She just needed to be powerful enough to perform one.

 

It was just sex, she reasoned with herself. She could have sex for magic. Sure, she wasn’t as experienced in the former as the latter, but how hard could it be? She’d been selling her blood for money for a couple months now, what was one night of sex with someone she despised in order to get her magic back? Right? Right.

 

Still she couldn’t help throwing one last glance at the brooding green painted forest, or quite suppress the feeling that there were hidden depths to all of this, to Klaus, that she’d only yet glimpsed.

 

But it was too late now. She was alone in the woods, and the Wolf already knew the taste of her blood.

 

****

 

Lucky for him and his centuries-old love affair with scotch, vampires never had hangovers. Not from alcohol anyway. However, excess without true satisfaction punished even immortal bodies, which explained why he woke up feeling like he’d swallowed an ashtray and washed it down with toilet-water.

 

Bonnie had eventually tired of their violent exchange of kisses for power and he’d placed her sleeping body gently on that ottoman before charging out of the house. Rather than exhaustion, he found the searing pain of magic in between the sweet warmth of her kisses had only invigorated and inflamed him until it took all his self-control not to take both her body and her blood, hard, right there on that studio floor. Instead he’d driven deep into New Orleans and enticed three lonely women up to a cheap motel room where he’d drunk from leg, thigh, neck and wrist until the blood trickled out the sides of his mouth and all three women were unconscious.

 

And it still wasn’t enough. It wasn’t _her_.

 

Klaus stared at the dusty ceiling fan whirring overhead. The harsh light of day made the stained motel room look a hundred times worse, and he promised himself a steaming hot bath as soon as he removed himself from this no-doubt-rat-infested hole.

 

Perhaps Bonnie could join him in the bath...his thoughts trailed pleasantly off, taking shape around the slender green-eyed witch who smelled of tangerines and kissed him like she was driving a stolen car. He could imagine touching her soft brown skin in the bathwater, moving the hair off her nape to expose the lovely curve of her neck....maybe she’d even give him a taste of her.

 

And just like that, he was starving. The blood-bag he’d guzzled had only whetted his appetite, and besides, Bonnie Bennett deserved better; she should be drunk from in candlelight, maybe some violin in the background while he worshipped her body with his hands and mouth until she arched her throat and _begged_ him to take her sweet blood and her even sweeter trust.

 

A cold inner voice cut through the fantasies: _and what then? will you romance her all the way to the sacrificial altar? Will you kiss her while you cut the heart out of her chest? You’ve kept her alive this long for a reason and one reason only: power, a kingdom beyond anything your enemies could’ve imagined. Restore her magic, then take her precious heart for your own._

He tried to focus on the calculated admonishments of his inner strategist that had seen him through centuries of bloody deeds. He hadn’t come this far just to stumble over a slip of a girl.

Still, as his protectiveness and attraction towards her grew each day she was under his roof, Klaus realized he no longer knew whether he was keeping her alive for his final goal, or simply because he liked keeping her around.

 

If she chose the route she’d initiated last night then restoring her magic would hardly be a chore.  He knew of the power and fertility rituals indulged in by the witches of old. As a vampire he’d never been able to participate, but now with his Wolf unlocked it seemed Bonnie’s magic was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And oh, how he longed to consume her in all ways possible.

 

One night, he reasoned with himself. _I deserve one night of her before she’s gone forever. Before she’s just another ghost._

 

A bright-eyed girl for the kingdom of his dreams. Innocence consumed by power. There was a cruel beauty to it that was comforting in a twisted way.

 

After all, it was all he’d ever known. The defining logic of his existence.

 

* * *

 

 

Marcel covered his nose and mouth when the horrid stench hit him. His associates who’d found the young vampire’s body washed up in a sewer did likewise as they unzipped the body bag.

 

Unlike the human girls who’d been turning up headless for a few weeks, the vampire - he recognized her, a brash young one named Amber - had all her extremities. But her skin looked like it was covered in a strange moss which turned out to be her veins, unnaturally blackened, showing up through the pale skin. Her eyes too were opaque-black, and so was the tongue that lolled out of her mouth. Some strange pestilence seemed to have consumed her inside out.

 

His mouth set in a grim line. He’d known the decapitated human bodies were the portent of something brewing beneath the surface of his city, something supernatural and definitively malevolent. And it didn’t help when the witches started leaving en-masse. He’d been stockpiling witch’s blood and keeping his eyes and ears peeled, figuring he’d be ready and prepared when whatever it was decided to show its face (as all supernatural entities that meddled in the human world did before long).

 

But something that could kill a vampire without the aid of sunlight, wood or vervain, was something to be reckoned with and reckoned with now.

 

“What do you want us to do, boss?”

 

His cell-phone beeped and he looked down to see a message from Rebekah.

 

_Meet u at the bayou. 8pm. Don’t be late._

 

Masking a smile, he slipped the phone back in his pocket. He had plenty of time to get some work done beforehand.

 

“Post guards by all the open bayous, St.John’s, Sauvage, all the waterways that get a lot of traffic. No one is to leave the Quarter without express permission from me,” he gestured at the dead vampire, “I intend to discover how she managed to slip awayt. Anyone found to have aided her, will answer to me. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Grim nods followed.

 

“Any word from Jacques yet?”

 

No one had heard from or seen him.

 

Jacques had gone missing right before Klaus had taken Bonnie under his care. Marcel had trusted and relied on Jacques, he’d been one of the first vamps he sired, but as the days lengthened the more it became apparent Jacques wasn’t coming back. Maybe this creature got him too. A cold sense of urgency prickled the back of his neckas he got in his car and headed out of the Quarter.

 

He needed a witch. Klaus had claimed the little Bennett girl, and even though he had intimated he might know what was behind these attacks, Marcel knew that his sire would never disclose information unless it benefited him in some way. What was it Bonnie had said? He never plays a card without holding six to his chest.

 

Well, he had some cards of his own. This was his city, his legacy, ruled by loyalty and devotion, not fear and control. And he intended to keep it that way. He just hoped this time Rebekah would be strong enough to stay with him, to break free of the messy insecurity and trauma that distorted her relationship with her family.

 

Klaus thought he was clever by keeping Bonnie close, effectively giving him control over her precious blood and magic, but he knew of another, a tough cookie who was also a loner and therefore unlikely to have joined the witch exodus.

 

Time to pay Sophie Deveraux a visit.

 

* * *

 

 

Bonnie laid out the supplies: beeswax candles, sage, honey, rainwater and red apples. Qetsiyah was right that the Grimoires made no mention of earth magic, but she’d managed to find a dusty manuscript with illustrations and some archaic Latin she was able to translate.

 

“I could really use another visit right now Qetsiyah,” she muttered. Her only answer was the breeze sighing through the thick trees, brushing her damp skin with a sweet moment of relief. The sweltering Louisiana heat was stifling even at dusk, and Bonnie was glad she’d opted for a high-bun that kept hair off her neck. But she knew she’d be sweating even if it wasn’t hot: nervousness sang through every vein as the sun began setting.

 

Klaus had agreed to meet her here at dusk. She still hadn’t seen him since last night, and each minute that passed gave birth to a new flurry of butterflies.

 

What if he didn’t show? Or what if he did, and laughed at her? She surveyed the little clearing in the woods (in her vision from Qetsiyah it seemed like earth magic was best performed...well, close to the earth and its elements) and cringed. She’d set out the honey and rainwater and apples as the manuscript instructed, fervently hoping there weren’t any bears in these woods. She was pretty confident there weren’t, but it would be just her luck if a bear smelled the honey and showed up before Klaus did. She could see the headlines now, Girl Mauled to Death by Bear while Preparing Neo-Pagan Ritual.

 

The reality of what she was about to do sank in. She was going to sleep with Klaus. He was going to touch her, be inside her. She felt flushed from both embarrassment and something else, something that had lingered between her and Klaus even when he was a sworn enemy.

 

 _What makes you think he isn’t an enemy now?_  Her inner voice deadpanned.

 

_He’s probably only restoring your powers so he can use them, and you, for something evil._

Suddenly her nervousness melted into dejection. Of course he wanted to use her powers, that’s all anyone ever wanted from her, even her best friends. Her heart, her body, her dreams were just vessels for the All Important Magic. Without it, she may as well be one of those headless girls in the river for all anyone cared. And whenever she tried to use it for selfish ends, like bringing Jeremy back, the spirits saw fit to punish her.

 

Well, she was done trying to do things the right way, the “proper” way. Hadn’t Elena and Caroline and Damon and Stefan done far worse things with far worse people, and for less?  And where was their punishment? She tried not to think about Jeremy; she’d been ignoring his calls and texts for weeks because, deep down, she knew she didn’t have the heart to tell him that as much as she cared about him, she loved her powers more.

 

If this ritual really worked, and she got her powers back...well, she had a plan . What had he said to her in Mystic Falls? _I think you’re underestimating yourself Bonnie._

 

“The Four Seasons too cliched for you?”  a smirking Klaus sauntered into the clearing like he’d appeared out of her thoughts, “though perhaps I should be flattered that you want my body so much you care little for ambience.”

 

Bonnie rolled her eyes. “Keep telling yourself that, Klaus.”

 

Secretly though, she had to admit he looked good. He was freshly shaved and showered, dressed in grey jeans and a light-blue Henley that brought out his eyes. His blond curls were still wet from the shower, and she could smell the sandalwood and honey notes of his cologne. She’d thought her cherry-blossom summer dress was the right choice but suddenly found herself wishing she’d styled her hair or put on some lipstick.

 

“What’s that?” she noticed he had an oblong wooden box in his hand.

 

He opened it and produced a beautiful bottle of red wine with the image of a slender, silver maiden encircling it like vine leaves.

 

“Pomegranate wine,” he informed her, sitting down beside her on the blanket with a twinkle in his eye, “I thought perhaps we could have a drink at least before you ravish my virtue.”

 

“Shut up and open the bottle.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

“This isn’t your ordinary supernatural creature,” Sophie Devereaux, turned the book around so he could see the illustration, “what we’re dealing with is a Ghūl.”

 

Marcel raised an eyebrow, “You mean a ‘ghoul’?

 

“The witches of ancient Arabia named them. They’re also called jinns, but unlike jinni, all ghilan are malevolent. And once released from the Other Side, impossible to destroy.”

 

“What does this ghūl want?”

 

She got up and set out more candles, then lit them with an eyeblink. Her tiny basement room was crowded with books and magic supplies. A small stove in the corner and a freezer-box were the only signs an actual human lived here.

 

“Ghūl’s are the distorted spirits of supernatural beings who died what they think is an unjust death, or who were persecuted during their lives. In the old days when a witch or a vampire or any supernatural being died, their spirits were released into the ether like any human soul, whether to be reborn or rest forever, we don’t know.”

 

He took a thoughtful sip from the glass of whisky she offered, “I thought supernatural souls went to the Other Side?”

 

“Yes well, a long time ago, a young and beautiful witch decided she could have it all: youth, beauty and true love with her “soulmate” Silas,” Sophie gave a short, humorless laugh, “her name was Qetsiyah.”

 

She continued, “When her soulmate betrayed her, she created the Other Side to spite him, but once magic is released into the world, no one can predict the consequences, not even a witch as powerful as Qetsiyah. All kinds of spirits started to linger in the Other Side, including ones who were not quite finished with the physical world, who seek to destroy it and corrupt it any way they can, in vengeance for what was done to them. And thats how the ghūl came into being.”

 

“What happened to Qetsiyah?”

 

“Not sure,” Sophie shrugged, “her ancestors and her family sorta disowned her. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s still lingering in the Other Side, trying not become a ghūl.”

 

“So this ghūl that’s menacing my city, how do we stop it?”

 

“We?” she snorted, “just because I gave you a history lesson doesn’t mean I wanna help you. What’s in it for me?”

 

“I’ll pay you -,”

 

“I don’t give a shit about money, or jewelry or being more powerful, so don’t waste your breath.”

 

Marcel smiled into his empty glass, “And yet here you are, giving me a history lesson. Why?”

 

“Because, the old stories also say that Qetsiyah created a failsafe, a magical gem infused with her own blood that would allow her to be gatekeeper between the realms. She called it Persephone’s Key.”

 

“Ok, now you’ve lost me. You’re saying there’s a key of some kind, that can let things in and out of the Other Side like a parole officer. How does that help us?”

 

“I’ve been keeping my eyes open, I know there’s a Bennett witch in town, a descendant of no less than Qetsiyah herself.”

 

“Bonnie Bennett? She’s under Klaus Mikaelson’s protection.” And suddenly, it was like a mist clearing. “That’s why she’s under Klaus’s protection. He must be after this Key. You think Bonnie has it?”

 

She shook her head, “No one knows where it is, it’s been lost for centuries. But think about it: a ghūl shows up in New Orleans around the same time as Bonnie Bennett, the girl whose ancestor not only created the realm of the ghilan, but who also devised a way to let things in and out. There are no coincidences in the supernatural world, Marcel, only signs, and those who choose to read them.”

 

He checked his watch. It was almost time to meet Rebekah. Finishing his drink, Marcel stood up and grabbed his jacket, “I’m not interested in witchy politics Sophie. For the last time, can you help me stop the ghūl and keep this city safe?”

 

Sophie’s eyes narrowed, glowing like embers on a fire burning long, low and patient, waiting for the right moment to flare. “First, my payment.”

 

“I thought you said -,”

 

“Her blood. I need Bonnie Bennett’s blood.”

 

* * *

 

 

The wine was sweet and sharp going down, stronger than she expected. Bonnie took another small swig of the bottle, her mouth sticky-sweet. Klaus turned out to be surprisingly good at small-talk, and they were settling into an almost-comfortable silence as the full moon rose overhead.

 

She watched him swallow more wine, his eyes dark and contemplative.  “That painting in your studio, of the forest...who’s the person walking out of the woods?”

 

“Someone who didn't make it out of the proverbial woods,” he glanced at his feet, “Someone I couldn't save.”

 

“You? Tried to save someone?”

 

“Tried being the operative word. Tried and failed. And since then I've looked out for myself. “

 

She snorted, “How'd that work out for you?”

 

His eyes rose swiftly to hers, “How has saving countless others at the expense of your own well being gone for you? That's what I thought.”

 

She grabbed the bottle back by the neck, “At least I know I've tried to be a good person. To do the right thing.”

 

“And how warm does righteousness keep you at night Bonnie? Didn't you ever wish you'd done something wickedly selfish, that your bed wasn't empty as a nun's while your friends were practically swapping lovers every night?”

 

She frowned in silence and took another gulp of wine. It burned something sweet down her throat.

 

“I don't think you are as righteous as you like to think, love. I think you're afraid. You're afraid of letting go, of really being everything you can be.”

 

“Silas tried that with me,” she shuddered, “Except he called it Expression. And it didn't feel like being myself, it felt crazy, and frightening, and the people I loved were afraid of me.”

 

“Maybe, they don't love you as much you think.”

 

Her head snapped up.

 

“In any case,” he continued, leaning back into the tree trunk and resting an arm on his knee, “Expression is a farce, burns out a witch's power and leaves you with nothing. Its mindless chaos, a vortex, something outside of nature. True power is a storm, a force of light and thunder but with you at the calm center.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?”

 

He touched her hand, gently. “Because you're trembling, and I can hear your heart beating like a hummingbird.”

 

His touch was warm and comforting, and slowly kindled the heat of magic in her veins.

 

“So all of this is you spitting game? Smooth, Klaus. Nothing gets a girl wet in the panties like some Robin Sharma life coaching about thunderstorms and-”

 

He cut her off with a kiss, wrapping an arm around her to bring her flush against his chest. Bonnie melted into the warmth of his mouth as he kissed her like tasting finest vintage, taking his time, teasing with his tongue and teeth, promising more. When they parted she felt her skin glowing from the heat of magic and arousal.

 

“You’re beautiful,” his voice was thick and low, “Are you going to punish me now?”

 

“Do you want me to?”

 

“Do you want your powers back Bonnie?”

 

“More than anything.”

 

“Then stop being afraid,” his thumb caressed her bottom lip. “Stop being afraid of me, and of yourself,” his mouth was now close to her ear, whispering, “Let go.”

 

She swallowed, feeling her heartbeat pick up like bird wings, “What if...what if I stay lost?”

 

“You're not little red riding hood. You know your way around the woods.”

 

“Said the proverbial Big Bad Wolf.”

 

He laughed quietly against her neck, “Thank you for using my full title. Now, where were we,” his mouth found hers again, and this time he kissed her harder, deeper as she wrapped trembling arms around his neck. Feeling courageous again, Bonnie straddled his lap, to which he responded with a low groan and sucking bite on her mouth that felt, purely, hungry.

 

Some small part of her, the part that was tired of living with the taste of Death in her mouth, the part that wanted safety and love, that knew the former came at a high price and the latter almost never, tried to resist the pull of power and desire that was sweeping through her veins with each passing second in Klaus’ arms.

But already she could feel the argent moon igniting their blood, witch and hybrid entwined beneath the sweaty silver light. She was losing herself in the heat and in him, and god it felt good.

 

Whatever happened, there was no turning back now.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo reviews you know are love ^_^
> 
> ALSO, I have a question for y'all : I've been outlining a new Klonnie long fic based on Romeo and Juliet (it's not a strict adaptation but the themes of forbidden love and warring families are the same) in which Bonnie is Klaus' reincarnated lover. It's gonna be AU of course. So here's the thing, I know that similar themes have been explored by other Klonnie writers, and I also know that Klonnie isn't as as big as Bamon or Klamille right now especially because they aren't on the same show anymore, however I really love this couple and I want to write this new fic for them (Garnet won't be abandoned don't worry!). Would y'all be interested in a fic like I just described? Or would it be boring/ trite? Leave your thoughts in the reviews and please be honest, I'd appreciate the feedback before I full on commit to another fic :) And thank you again for all your gracious support thus far xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are love ^_^


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